All Roads Lead to Home
by Rachael Kate
Summary: SEQUEL. Dean returns to Lawrence three years after the events of The Long Way Around
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, so I'm back. I was feeling uninspired and a little melancholy, but when you're a poor college student you have a lot of time on your hands to think when you should be working on papers. I still have no idea where I'm going with this right now, but that pretty much reflects my entire life. See? I told you I have the winter blues. _

_Anyway, this is a continuation of "The Long Way Around" because I couldn't think of anything new to write. If you haven't read the story, you might want to because plotlines and characters refer back to it a lot. I hope it doesn't seem stale or recycled, because after this I'm going to be going back with a story about Dean's accident and the days following and then a series of vignettes revolving around his recovery, transition to life in Lawrence and his relationship with Natalie. Don't ask me why I'm starting with the sequel instead of the beginning, I have no idea. I was in a whimsical mood and the middle is usually where I jump into my messes anyway, all smiles and headfirst._

_So without further delay, I give you the first chapter. Enjoy!_

CHAPTER 1

Dean absolutely hated Midwest heat. It was the middle of September, but the air still clung heavily and it seemed that the only relief one could find was in a frosted mug of beer. He had actually considered stopping at Patty's to sit down at the counter with one, but he was needed somewhere else. Besides, he didn't want a lot of people knowing he was in town.

With a mournful glance at the little diner, he drove away from Main Street and headed in the direction of the hospital. He knew the way well. He'd spent a month there after being transferred from St. Louis and another handful of months in and out for physical therapy and appointments.

He pulled into the parking lot and glared at the spiteful building. If he'd had his way it would've been salted, burned, and condemned to hell as soon as he cleared its doors for good, but he didn't need arson added to his record and spouting Latin in front of its sliding doors would've earned him a trip back inside to the psych ward.

Sighing heavily, Dean killed the engine and sat back to look at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was thirty-four now, but looked little older than the twenty-eight year old he'd been when he'd first come home. Crow's feet around his eyes were more prominent now but that was probably due more to lack of sleep than age. But other than that, he had aged little. Actually, with his summer tan and the dusting of darkened freckles giving him a boyish appearance, he looked better than his pale and broken twenty-eight year old self.

Giving his hair a reckless swipe, he opened the car door and slid out, grimacing as he bent his left leg from under the wheel. The rest of his body groaned in protest from being in the same position for so long and once standing he shed his outer shirt and threw it back on the seat.

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he trudged against the sizzling pavement to the hospital entrance. He shuddered involuntarily against the soothing effects of the air conditioning as soon a got inside the doors and wondered what might happen to him if he just lay down on the tiled floor spread-eagled. He looked around and was met with a sympathetic smile from the girl at the desk.

"This heat wave we're having is supposed to last at least for another week," she said as he gave her a grin and sauntered over. "You here for an appointment?"

"Huh? Uh, no," he sputtered looking down at his leg. "Old…football injury. Can you tell me where Sam Winchester's room is?"

Looking nonplussed at her mistake, the girl looked down at a list and said, "213," without looking up.

Frowning, and feeling slightly self conscious now, he murmured his thanks and turned away without so mush as asking for her number, but brightened when he saw a familiar figure at the coffee dispenser.

"Missouri!" he called.

She spun around and broke into a smile and waited for him to walk over. He took the two steaming cups of coffee, set them down and threw an arm around her and kissed her forehead in a rare act of affection he reserved only for her. She returned the hug just and fiercely and then pulled back and began examining him. "Dean, baby, you look like hell!" She touched his stubbled cheek and tsked before continuing her tirade. "And when was the last time you touched a razor? Good Lord, three years away from me and you turn back into John Winchester's spawn. Cheeks like sandpaper. Never get any loving if you scrape the skin off the girl's cheek."

"I'm fine," Dean interrupted, but the fondness in his eyes for the woman he considered his surrogate mother betrayed the gruffness in his voice.

"Well, she sighed handing him the cups. "Might as well make yourself useful."

He took them and began sipping out of one and she slapped the back of his head. Boy, those are for your daddy and brother. Get your own."

He shrugged and Missouri sighed again in exasperation.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Missouri left Dean at Sam's door while she went to look for John in the cafeteria. The moment Dean stepped into the room and saw his brother's leg casted and elevated, a huge grin split his face.

"Shut up, you jerk," Sammy groused.

"That's what you get for tossing me out a window," Dean said matter of factly. "Karma's a bitch, Sammy. And it comes around."

He took another sip from his brother's coffee and then handed it to him. Sam glared at him. "You drive all the way from Shrevesport in less than… thirteen hours to bust my ass?"

"I drove all the way from Shrevesport in less than thirteen hours because Dad left me a voice message saying you'd been hurt," Dean replied indignantly. "It wasn't until I'd been on the road for six hours before I got a hold of him again and he told me all you had was a lousy broken leg. It's almost ten in the morning and I haven't had breakfast yet."

"And coffee apparently," Sam noted watching him start sucking on their dad's cup of joe. "It's good to see you man."

Dean smiled and clapped his shoulder. "Been to long. I was still in Biloxi the last time we saw each other. That was six months ago."

"Maybe you should just come back here every once in awhile," Sam hinted, punching him good naturedly in the stomach. "Then Dad and I wouldn't have to drag our asses to whatever swamp or bayou you're squatting in."

"Well, you got me here now and I expect that beer you promised if I ever came through," Dean said pointing a finger at him. "When do you spring this joint?"

"Later today. They kept me overnight because of the concussion."

"Dean."

He turned around and grinned. "Dad."

John Winchester put on an identical grin and gave him a hearty slap on the back. "Hey son."

Dean held out his coffee and John took it and frowned and rolled his eyes at the half drank beverage. "You look like hell," he stated. "Go back to Missouri's and sleep it off."

"I only look like hell because of misinforming phone calls."

"Sorry."

"I'll go back to the house with you," Missouri piped up from John's side. "I've already spent enough time here before."

"Amen," Dean agreed. "I'll see you guys later."

"Later," John and Sam said in unison.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

"What happened anyway?" Dean asked pulling onto Missouri's street. They were out in the woods next to the cemetery hunting some spirit. Threw Sam against the tree and snapped his leg clean in two."

"Could've been worse I suppose."

"Mmm. Good thing your Daddy was there." She glanced at Dean. "That's why you should never hunt alone."

Dean kept his eyes on the road and tapped his fingers in time to the music coming from the tape deck.

"Dean."

"I hung up my salt gun a long ago you know that."

"Don't b.s. me boy," Missouri snapped.

Dean sighed as he pulled into her drive. "I can't just ignore what I see going on around me," said setting the emergency brake and yanking the keys out of the ignition.

"Dean, you cannot be hunting alone," Missouri insisted following him out of the car and to the trunk. "It's not safe-"

"It's never safe, even with someone watching my back," he answered grabbing his bag from amidst the weapons. Someone had always gotten hurt on a hunt and I don't remember Dad and Sammy having a pillow for me to land on when I fell three stories. Besides, we've all hunted alone before."

"Because you're a family of idiots," Missouri countered. She put a hand on his arm. "And you didn't have a handicap. Whether you like it or not that leg is a liability. You need someone."

"Yeah, well, the Winchesters haven't been welcome in the hunters' circle for a long time." Dean smiled cockily. "I'm wanted on both sides of the law."

"Dean, this isn't funny."

"Can we please just save this for another time?" he begged slamming the trunk lid down. "I'm tired."

Missouri crossed her arms and looked away. "Fine."

Dean smiled at her and offered his arm in peace. She rolled her eyes and took it and they started through the yard arm in arm. He stopped halfway though and just looked at the house. No one passing by could ever imagine that just three years ago it had been nearly destroyed. Everything looked calm and peaceful and the way he had remembered it before and he was glad. In many ways, this house had been more of a home than the won his family had lived in across town, and it was nice to know it was still there even though he hadn't returned since leaving.

"You okay?" Missouri asked concerned.

"Yeah, jus tired," he said still looking at the house.

Missouri smiled and tugged on him. "Let's go in."

_I know it's not very long for a first chapter, but reviews are love._


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry it took so long. I just could not find a way to write this chapter and it was driving me nuts. I hope the result is acceptable. I'll have the nest chapter up in a few days. Promise._

Chapter 2

Growing up as a hunter and soldier caused a person to acquire many skills. Knowing when oneself wasn't alone, even when in the deep recess of sleep, was one of them. So to say that Ben Anderson was startled when the strange, sleeping man he had been regarding curiously suddenly popped upright in bed was an understatement. He fell back on his diapered bottom with wide eyes and his mouth formed into a little "o" while he clutched his toy fire engine to his chest.

Dean Winchester stared at him with equally wide eyes, thankful his intruder wasn't anything he had to toss salt on and at the same time wondering why a young child was in his room. The silence that in which the two continued to stare at each other was nearly comical, neither knowing what to think of the other. Light footsteps on the stairs interrupted their sizing each other up and both turned simultaneously when a familiar figure appeared in the doorway.

"Ben, I told you..." Natalie's voice dropped off when she saw Dean. She leaned against the doorframe and tucked a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. "I saw the Impala out front, but I couldn't believe my ears when Missouri told me Dean Winchester had rolled back into town."

"Hey Nat," he breathed. _God, how I've missed you_.

It was awkward, standing in silence for a long time in a room they used to make love in, trying to figure out how to fill the gap between them. Their - well, whatever it was they'd been - had been fractured before his leaving and they hadn't had the chance to fix it like he had with Sam and his father. But then again, his unconventional relationship with Natalie hadn't been black and white either.

"Where the hell have you been?" she finally whispered.

Dean hated the pain in her eyes, knowing he was the cause. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but he hadn't meant to do a lot of things in the past three years. "I really can't say," he said honestly. "Lots of different places."

Natalie's brows furrowed at his vagueness and a familiar, dull pain impaled his chest and he suddenly remembered why he hadn't been able to bear to reaching out to her. She was one of the few people who knew him better than anybody and yet it still hadn't been enough. There was a curtain drawn over parts of his life and his past that he could never allow her to see and it had cut both of them to the core every time he had shut her out. They spent two years going in circles before she had finally tired of guessing and fallen into the arms of another man.

Dean lowered his gaze to the child and cleared his throat. "Is that…?"

Natalie smiled and picked the little boy up off the floor. "This is Benjamin Matthew," she said with the kind of pride laced in her voice that only a mother could possess. "He was two years old March 2nd."

Benjamin snuggled against his mother and laid his head against her shoulder. It was strange for Dean to think how he'd been just a heartbeat in Natalie's belly when he left. He remembered during a phone call Missouri had told him that the baby had been born but he hadn't let himself think about it anymore than that. Still, a woman's body had never ceased to amaze him in what it could do, from bringing a man to the brink of insanity with pleasure to carrying actual life in its womb.

"He's…," _beautiful_ he thought, but the old cliché sounded empty and made him more than a little nauseous. "He's got your eyes," he said instead, taking in the light green irises that were studying his face again.

Natalie ran a hand through her son's flaxen colored hair and gave him one of her trademark smirks that Dean remembered so well. "He's a good looking kid."

He smiled and some of the tension in the room lessened.

"C'mon," she whispered in Ben's ear. "Let's go back downstairs."

"That fire engine looks awful familiar," Dean mused following them out of the room.

Natalie paused at the top of the steps. "You don't mind, do you? He looks for it every time we come over."

"So that's what he was in my room for," Dean said raising an eyebrow, not able to keep from being drawn to the little boy who was now grinning at him from over his mother's shoulder. "I was wondering why the box was on the floor, figured Sammy was going through some sort of regression."

The box was one filled with some of Dean's old toys that had survived the fire that Jenny had found in the basement of the old Winchester home when she had cleared out more of the basement and brought it to Missouri. When Dean had moved in he had shoved it to the back of his closest and hadn't thought about it again. But he recognized the fire engine as one his favorites as a child. Memory brought his mother's smile to mind when she watched him race around the house with it making siren noises as he saved his G.I. Joes teetering on the on the edge of the coffee table from peril. Now though, between his mother's death and his own accident, emergency sirens made him edgy.

"I don't mind," he said, dragging his thoughts out of his hazy past. "They shouldn't be at the back of the closet."

Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the screen door in the front foyer as they descended the steps. Missouri had always enjoyed balmy, summer evenings and she was determined to get in as many as possible before October and frigid weather came.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," Sam called from the couch in the living room.

Natalie went on to the kitchen but Dean veered off course and plopped down on the couch next to his brother, careful of his casted leg. "What the hell, Sam?"

"Look, I'm sorry," Sam whispered harshly. "I didn't know Missouri invited her over or you know I would've told you. But Dean, there's something –"

Dean sighed in frustration and raked fingers through his hair. "What time is it?"

"Five o clock. Don't worry about jostling the leg," Sam said with a careless wave. "I don't know what they got me on but you could probably take my leg off and beat me with it, I wouldn't feel a thing."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah, I think Dad swiped a couple of prescription slips while the doctor had his back turned."

Dean raised his hand above his brother's leg as if to test Sam's theory, but John stopped him. "Don't you dare," he growled from the entryway to the connected dining room. "Dinner's ready."

Dean was up off the couch at the mention of Missouri's cooking but didn't forget to bend and help his brother haul himself up. John rolled his eyes and handed Sam his crutches. "For crying out loud, use 'em. I'll be half starved by the time the two of you gimp to the table."

"Thanks for the love, Dad," Sam said swinging past him and sitting down in a chair that Missouri pulled out for him.

"No problem," John said cheerfully.

Dean plopped down in the chair next to him. "Don't worry about it, Sammy. Chicks dig battle scars."

"I wouldn't call breaking your leg after falling into an old shaft a battle scar," Natalie commented dryly coming from the kitchen. She sat Ben on the floor next to the table where she could watch him play while they ate and took a seat across from Dean.

John shot him a glare for his carelessness.

"Yeah, well, neither is falling out an attic window but that didn't take away from my allure did it?" Dean asked easily.

Natalie narrowed her eyes and said, "No, I suppose it didn't."

"I didn't make all this food for it to sit on the table and smell good," Missouri intervened casually after a moment of silence.

Dean and Natalie broke their glare and Dean reached for the casserole dish. "Sorry Missouri."

For a long time the only sounds were the scraping of utensils on plates and Ben's occasional sound effects until Natalie attempted civil conversation again. "Where's Obie?" she said looking around. "I expected him to greet me at the door."

John and Sam paused in their chewing and Dean swallowed as a lump grew in his throat. He'd never forget the way Obadiah had lunged to his defense against the Black Dog he'd been hunting in Wyoming. He'd had his back turned and didn't see it until the hound scampered in front of him and bared his teeth and growled low in his throat as the creature attacked. When Dean had finally been able to get a clean shot off and kill the damn thing, Obie was lying on his side and whimpering, but wagging his tail weakly at him as he dropped to knees beside him. He'd spent the better part of half an hour stroking the dog's head and letting him lick his fingers before finally pulling the trigger. He'd never felt more lonely in his life as he did driving out of Cheyenne alone.

"Dean?"

He snapped out of it and back into the present. "Uh, had to put him down about a year ago," he stammered, telling her the same story he'd told his dad and brother. "Degenerative disease in the hips."

The look of utter devastation on Natalie's face was like opening the wound all over again. When Dean had brought Obadiah out of the woods as a half grown pup all those years ago, she had been the one to help bathe him, feed him, and nurse him back to health. In a way Obadiah had been…theirs.

"Dean I'm sorry," she whispered.

He barely nodded and began pushing his food around on his plate with his fork trying to fight the burning in his eyes. Missouri patted his hand comfortingly. "He was a good dog."

Dean straightened and slipped away from her touch. "Well, he's gone now."

Nothing more was said.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

"I better get Ben home before it gets dark," Natalie said wiping her wet hands with a towel after helping Missouri with the last of the dishes.

Missouri picked the child up who had been toddling around the kitchen and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."

Ben smiled at her and nodded and then reached for his mother. "I'll drop him off around eight," Natalie told her taking her son in her arms.

Missouri nodded and followed her to the front door to help her unfold the stroller and get Ben settled. The little boy's eyes began drooping as soon as his mother laid him in the down in the seat.

"Dean, come help Natalie get this contraption down the front steps," Missouri called into the living room where the Winchester men were having a beer.

Dean frowned, but Missouri's tone held no room for argument. John and Sam grinned over their bottles and he glared at them as he set his down and got to his feet. _ This is too much for a man_, he groaned inwardly as he pushed the stroller out onto the porch while Natalie held the screen door for him. She must have known how embarrassing it was for him because he had a small grin on her face the entire time.

"Is Jason coming to pick you up or do you just like taking long walks?" Dean grunted lowering the stroller down the steps onto the walk.

Natalie's face faltered for a second. "Jason and I are separated," she said smoothly. "I moved back into the house up the street."

Dean's mouth dropped open. "Wha…_Why_?"

"Why do you think, Dean?" She regarded him for a moment before turning and started down the sidewalk.

"Wait, what are you saying?" Dean called catching hurrying after her and catching her arm. "Natalie, talk to me!"

"Dean, I _can't. _Not tonight," she whispered. "Please, just let me go."

"I can't just-"

"Dean, we'll talk. I promise. But not in the middle of the street."

He stared at her for a minute longer before nodding and finally dropped her arm and then watched her walk away in the dusk.

_Reviews would be wonderful!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, so I lied. I didn't post this chapter within a couple of days of the last one. Bad writer! (Slaps wrist) Trying to work this in around the pile of papers I have to write for school can be a bitch, and I backed myself into a corner with some pretty important deadlines last semester by putting them on the backburner in lieu of creative fulfillment. I vowed I wouldn't write as much this term, but it's a slippery slope and once the inspiration hit me about a day ago about where I would take this story, that promise pretty much got shot to hell. _

_I was also completely floored that there was no witch hunt after the death of Obadiah. I had braced myself for outraged readers and there was not one scathing review. Guess I'll have to go after someone else. Mwaahahahahahah!!_

_On with the insanity. Enjoy._

Dean sighed in relief when he turned the water faucet on and hot, steaming water beat down on him. He braced himself against the shower wall with his palms and stood like that for a long time letting the water course down his body in rivulets.

After Natalie had left the night before he had gone straight upstairs and no one had stopped him. He had lain on the bed silently for a long time simply staring at the ceiling, and when his dad had cracked the door open he had closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting to deal with anyone. John hadn't disturbed him and he hadn't bothered him that morning either, merely watched his son with sympathetic eyes as he met him in the hall on his way downstairs. Dean had grunted a greeting and then shut the door to the bathroom.

In truth, Dean really wasn't angry. He didn't know what he was. He just….he cursed silently and slammed a fist against the tile. Rubbing hand over his face vigorously, he angrily yanked the faucet off and reached for a towel. He stepped out and smeared a clean spot off the mirror and looked at his reflection. He needed to shave, but with his current mood he really didn't give a damn. He also needed a haircut, given that it was beginning to stick out at the ends and over his ears and figured he'd have Missouri do it while he was in. It lent him a youthful appearance, but other than that it drove him up the wall. The last time he'd had his hair that long and longer was after his accident. It had grown out in his months in the hospital and rehab, and the only reason he had kept it long after that was because Natalie had always tangled her fingers in it when….

Quickly banishing those memories from his mind, he tossed his towel into the corner and pulled on his jeans. Then he yanked his shirt over his head and shook excess water from his hair before pulling open the door. Sighing heavily he went back to his room and sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots.

"You can't just run to the garage and hide."

"Missouri, go away and stay the hell out of my head," he growled not even looking up.

The wizened black lady only crossed her arms. "Your tough man act don't work on me."

He pushed his pant leg back down over his boot. "This isn't an act. I want to be left the hell alone." He stood. "It's bad enough I'm gonna have a redhead gunning for me now, the last thing I need is you constantly on my ass."

"This is your battle Dean, I'm staying out of it," Missouri said calmly. "But you can't hide from Jason. Or Natalie. You need to face this."

"I know. And I will."

Missouri seemed to accept this. "You know you have an entire family here, right? We've always been here."

His face softened and he nodded.

"I've got some coffee brewing downstairs. And your brother's sleeping in his room so you leave him alone." She pointed a finger at him as she turned to go. "If I see you so much as stick one toe inside his door, I'm gonna bust you upside the head."

He grinned as he followed her out of the room. The faint snoring coming through the door at the bottom of the stairs was almost too much to resist and he paused on the last step. The room had been his when he had first returned to Lawrence because of the accessibility for his wheelchair and the connected bathroom. It had been one of the major reasons Missouri had bought the house. As soon as he had been able to walk again he had moved his room upstairs and eventually Sam had claimed this one as his own when their father had taken the empty guest room upstairs.

He put his hand on the knob, but Missouri called from the kitchen, "I have a frying pan within reach."

Sighing with disappointment, he dropped his hand and moseyed into the kitchen. John was leaning on the counter reading the paper and Missouri had the fridge open and was grabbing the milk. "I can whip you up something to eat," she said.

He went for the cabinet directly over the coffee pot and grabbed a mug. "Coffee'll do."

He poured himself a cup and took a sip before trudging out to the garage without another word. When John and Sam had begun considering Missouri's a home base, John had rebuilt the garage and made it his own. Strangely, he felt no resentment towards his father. They shared a love of working with their hands and some of the best memories he had were of the two of them bent over the Impala in a motel parking lot sharing a laugh or a beer.

He pulled up the door and flipped on the light switch. Sam had pulled the Impala in the night before and he figured he might as well do some maintenance on his girl.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Half an hour later Dean was crouched in front of the car sliding a pan under it when she appeared. He didn't notice her until she was standing beside him. "Do all men go into a trance like you do when you change the oil?"

He jumped and fell back on his ass. "Son of a bitch," he cursed. "You startled me."

"Obviously."

He climbed to his feet and turned his back on her. "You just being coy, or are you here because you have something to say?"

The good-naturedness disappeared. "You're one to talk about being coy," Natalie snapped bitterly.

Dean spun around and for a good minute they just glared at each other until he slammed his hand down on the workbench. "I guess we never did get to hash things out completely, did we?"

"I guess we didn't. Good, cause I'm in the mood for a fight," Natalie threw back.

"I didn't come back here to scream at you!" Dean forced out through gritted teeth.

"I know! You wouldn't have come back at all if Sam hadn't broken his leg! Did I really mean so little to you?" She crossed her arms. "You were so hurt after your family left you here and you did the same thing to me!"

"I had to leave! And I seem to remember you didn't have any problem walking away after I fucked you for the last time!"

"I was trying to walk away before I couldn't!"

"Well, you didn't do it soon enough!" Dean brought his face within inches of hers. "Your wedding day wasn't the best timing!"

Natalie's lower lip quivered and she relented. "I know. And now I'm paying for it."

The anger completely drained from Dean's body in that moment and he stepped back. Natalie turned away without looking at him and paused momentarily like she was going to speak again, but then decided against and disappeared.

Dean slammed the hood closed on the car and then swung the driver's door open and threw himself into the seat. He sat staring stonily ahead for a long time and didn't even acknowledge his father open the opposite door and slide in next to him. John didn't say anything, just offered him the beer he held out in his hand. Dean raised an eyebrow but took it and cracked it open. John did the same and both sat in silence for awhile.

"You know how early it is?" Dean asked, finally taking a sip. "I didn't even have breakfast."

"Sometimes you just have days where you need to start early."

"What I don't need is a lecture."

"I know."

Dean nodded and took another drink. "You know I lost a really good friend in Jason," he said softly. "Something I have far too few of in the world."

"I know. Our lifestyle has never been easy," John said. "But hunters are lonely by choice, Dean. I know from experience. It's _not_ easy to have friends, but they make what we do easier to bear. Don't alienate someone who truly cares about you because you can't let go of the past."

"My past is always going to be apart of my life."

"Which is why you need Natalie. She stood by you even after the fiasco with Paul Mitchell. She opened her home to us and let you back into her life, knowing what it could do to her relationship with Jason. She knows about some of your past and she still cares about you."

"I know all this, Dad!" Dean growled. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's why I feel even more like crap. All this is my fault."

"Don't give yourself too much credit," John commented wryly. "Natalie made her own bed."

"Yeah, and I was in it." He looked sideways at his father. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"You've done a pretty good job of punishing yourself." He took Dean's empty can. "No one is perfect, son. Not even your mother was, though she was pretty damn close. When I was able to realize that I was able to see things a lot more clearly. I think you will too." He opened the door and slid out. "Finish changing the oil and then go for a ride."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

It was close to noon before Dean worked up enough nerve to pull into a parking spot in front of Patty's. The little bell clanked when he opened the door and Natalie looked up from where she was behind the counter refilling a customer's coffee cup. Her eyes narrowed but gave no other outward sign of anger.

He sat down on a stool at the end where he was relatively isolated and grabbed a menu, though he knew it by heart. Natalie came over and slapped a paper pad down on the counter.

"Where's Patty?" Dean asked peering over her shoulder into the kitchen.

"On lunch break," she answered stiffly not looking at him. "Had to run over to the pharmacy. So either order from me or starve."

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

"Does this mean you want a burger?"

"I didn't mean to yell at you."

She met his eyes and sighed and slowly nodded. "Yeah, me neither."

"And I'm really sorry. For everything."

"It's both our faults. We both hurt each other."

"So does this mean you're not angry with me anymore?"

She smiled and put a cup in front of him in answer and grabbed the pot of coffee she had put back on the warmer.

Dean picked at the end of a napkin contemplatively while she poured. "What could we have really done anyway, you know? We went in completely different directions. Do you really think we could've ever had a place in each other's lives again even if I had stayed? I think we were both trying to wash our hands clean and start fresh."

Natalie shrugged and pressed her lips together. "Sometimes it's not that easy."

He frowned and wanted to ask what she meant, but their bond was tattered and they no longer shared their thoughts or feelings. Instead he took safer ground and asked, "So, how long has it been?"

"About four months. It had been coming for a long time though."

He grimaced.

"It's okay though, really," she continued half heartedly. "I moved back into the house and Patty's going to make me manager. And I have Ben."

Dean smiled. "And Ben," he repeated. "He's a good kid. You know, as much as a two year old can be anyway."

"Yeah, he is."

"I could talk to Jason," Dean offered.

"Dean…there's nothing left to say," Natalie whispered with a sad smile.

"No, I guess not," he said looking into the dark liquid of his cup. "I'm going to talk to him anyway. I have to. For me."

She bit her lip nervously, but nodded. "Just none of that "three paces and draw" crap, okay."

"Okay." He threw down a ten and stood. Good coffee. I'll see you later."

She smiled and slipped the money in her apron and nodded. He left the little diner feeling like a burden had been lifted, but it was quickly replaced when he put the Impala in gear and turned her in the direction of the Anderson farm.

_The story is finally going to start rolling from here. It took me forever to figure out how to get here, because I don't want to rush the story along. Tell me what you think so far. I want to get more reviews for this story than I did the last. I might have to add some smut if I get really desparate._


	4. Chapter 4

_This chapter was tricky to write, hence the long wait. Sorry, but I just couldn't get it right. I hope readers are happy with the way it turned out and the way I'm writing the characters. I'm trying to give them genuine, human emotions. All have flaws, especially Dean since he's the central character, and I prefer him that way. Some might disagree, but he's not a saint and I'm really trying to capture that. Please review and let me know what you think. _

Like everything else in Lawrence, the Anderson home still looked like it had the last time Dean had seen it. He swallowed hard when the white farmhouse came into view after turning up the gravel drive. He had nearly turned around a couple of times, but had gripped the steering wheel firmly, found his balls, and kept driving in determination.

He still had to wonder what the hell he was doing there though when Jason pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. Dean killed the engine and slowly climbed out of the car and leaned against it and the two men regarded each other blankly for a long moment.

It still eluded him at how they had managed to form a bond in Mike's garage all those years ago. After their shared love of anything that had an engine and Midwestern roots the similarities ended. He was a loner with biker boots, a leather jacket, and a sleek car. Jason was a country boy who'd worn the same baseball cap for years, who had a good sense of humor and had a heart as big as he was. He was a friend with everybody and had immediately taken a liking to Dean the first day they had met.

Jason had offered his friendship to him without question and that only made what Dean had done worse. That's why he had a lump in his throat that he was trying to swallow at that very minute.

He pushed off the Impala and slowly approached the porch. "Hey," he said.

Jason was silent but walked to the railing and leaned on it with his forearms and clasped his hands.

"I wouldn't blame you a bit if you'd have come out of the house and beat my ass. It's what I would've done."

"Yeah, well, I'm not like you," Jason replied coldly.

Dean knew he deserved that, but the words still made him flinch. "Look man, I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "I feel as guilty as hell. I never wanted for any of this to happen and neither did Natalie. Just…don't give up on her."

Jason just looked at him and he wondered if it wasn't too late to just climb back in his car and drive away as fast as he could. He sounded more lame the more he talked and he probably would've scoffed and flipped himself the bird if their positions had been reversed. But like Jason had said, he wasn't like him.

"You feel as guilty as hell, huh?" Jason mused sarcastically. He snorted. "I can almost forgive you for sleeping together, though doing it on our wedding day was kind of cheeky. It's the deceit that nearly killed me. I know how close you were and I trusted you! The three of us, we were friends and I was made out to be a fool for months."

"Jason, I'm not going to make excuses for myself. But you have to understand when me and Natalie met…we didn't have anybody else and it was just hard to let go. And when we finally did break it off, we just wanted to forget." Dean looked down and kicked the gravel with the toe of his boot. "I guess we figured it would go away."

"You both lied to my face. You both slapped on smiles and _lied_," Jason said clasping his fingers together so tightly the knuckles turned white. "I even asked her once."

"And like I said we both feel as guilty as hell," Dean said desperately. "We all have skeletons. She's a human, Jason. Forgive her for it." He thought about what his dad had said to him that morning while sitting next him. "You know I'm the last person to be giving you advice, but it seems to me that if you love a person, you love them for everything, their faults as well as their strengths. And the true test of a marriage comes when the other person needs forgiveness. And if you can't do that then you don't deserve her."

"And you do?"

"I didn't say that." He sighed. "She chose you, Jason. That's got to count for something. She chose you and had your baby."

Jason's eyes clouded over and his shoulders slumped.

"What?"

For once, he regarded Dean with pity and he straightened. "You need to talk to Natalie," he said quietly before ending the conversation by turning his back and walking back into his home.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Dean was close to losing his mind by the time he got back home. No, Missouri's home. Lawrence wasn't his home anymore; the recent conversation with Jason had proved that. He just wanted to throw his bag in the trunk and drive away without looking in the rearview, but he felt that this was a challenge he had to rise to. Leaving this town in a cloud of dust wouldn't give him the peace he craved.

Dean opened the front door and found Ben on the steps making slow progress upstairs on his hands and knees. He stuffed his keys in his pocket and raised an eyebrow when the toddler turned his little body to look at him.

"I bet you've been told a thousand times not to go near the steps," he said.

Ben only smiled at him.

"Yeah, I thought so," he remarked dryly. "C'mon, let's get you back on level ground."

Ben squealed when he reached for him and attempted to scramble out of his grasp, but his hand slipped and his chin came down on the step instead. "No, no, no," Dean said when the bottom lip began to quiver. He lifted the baby into his arms. "Shhh, you're okay, let me see."

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and he snuffled loudly, but Ben allowed Dean to pull down his bottom lip with his thumb. "You're okay tough guy," he reassured him patting his diapered bottom. "Nothing wrong except a fine set of chompers coming in." He then smoothed down Ben's fine blond hair and studied his cherubic face. Jason's shadowed face echoed in his head, but he shook it off. "C'mon, let's see if we can find a snack."

He carried the boy into the kitchen where Missouri was humming to herself and standing on her tiptoes and watering her flower pots that hung in the window sill over the sink. "Scamp here was attempting to scale to greater heights, you know," Dean told her wryly setting Ben down on the counter next the fridge.

"Booberr!" he exclaimed flailing his arms when Dean opened the door and saw the small container of blueberries.

"I know, but I knew you were coming in so I didn't worry about it," Missouri said without turning away from her plants. "And don't get the juice all over him," she added when Dean lifted the lid on the container and popped the fruit into Ben's mouth. "Natalie will skin you good if that stains his clothes."

Dean flinched at the mention of Natalie's name and Missouri noticed, but said nothing. "She should be here soon, shouldn't she?" he asked, humoring Ben by letting him feed him a berry.

"Bout half an hour."

"Where are Dad and Sam?"

"Library," she said setting down the watering can. "Mr. Mallard passed away last week in the middle of the night, but the evening before he kept calling his daughter saying he was hearing wailing outside in his yard. Sam thinks it was a banshee, but they just want to make sure they have their bases covered." She smiled brightly at Ben whose lips were stained purple. "You want to go outside?"

Ben replied by turning big green eyes on Dean and holding out his chubby arms. He could handle giving the kid an occasional lift, but the sort of affection the two year old was offering was foreign to him. Clearing his throat, he lifted the baby and tried handing him off to Missouri but Ben latched onto his neck in protest and he turned to the older woman at a complete loss. "Do something," he implored.

"He wants you."

"But…." He couldn't risk becoming attached to the little boy, but figured it was a little too late when he realized he liked the way he fit into his arms so easily.

Missouri smiled at his grudging acceptance. "I think he misses the bond with Jason on some level."

"Great, I'm sure Jason would love the fact that Ben took such a shine to me."

Missouri patted Ben's back. "You went to see him, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Feel better?"

Dean looked down at the small fist that had closed around his thumb. "I've got a pit in my stomach."

"Dean…"

"Missouri, I shouldn't have come back," he whispered; panic beginning to fill his voice and eyes.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Dean had hastily given Ben to Missouri and ignored his crying and went out to the porch.

He took a deep breath of fresh air and sat on the front step and pressed the heels of both his palms to his forehead trying to stave off a growing headache.

He didn't move for a long time while Missouri quieted Ben to soft whimpering and waited for Natalie. When she finally drove up the curb he stood purposefully and walked to meet her. She seemed hesitant to talk to him, but let Dean open the door and help her out.

They walked up the sidewalk silently but when Natalie started ascending the porch steps, he stopped her and pulled her down on them to sit next to him. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked bluntly.

"What did he say to you?"

"Enough to know that there's more going on here than just plain jealousy because I slept with his girl when you were dating. By the way, you have the crappiest poker face in the world."

Natalie seemed to relent and wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to draw strength. "Jason didn't ask me to leave because he found out about us. He could've forgiven me for that."

"Then what is it?"

She couldn't seem to look at him. "Ben…"

"Natalie, don't," he interrupted jumping to his feet and raking nervous fingers through his hair. "He began pacing back and forth in front of her.

"Dean, I don't know for sure—"

"How could you not know for sure?" Dean exclaimed. "How could it even be a possibility? You and I hadn't slept together for two and a half months before you announced you were pregnant."

"I found out I was pregnant seven weeks after I married Jason," Natalie whispered still not looking at him.

Dean froze and felt his entire world slip out from under his feet.

"I didn't tell Jason right away, I was scared," she continued, figuring there was no going back. Her face burned with shame. "And when Ben was born he figured he was just a little early."

"Stop it," Dean said finding his voice again. "Just _stop_."

"Dean, like I said I don't know for sure," Natalie said climbing to her feet to stand beside him. Tears were streaming down her face now. "Jason won't have a test done. I don't think he'd be able to stand it if Ben wasn't his."

Dean felt bile rising in his throat and he turned his face upwards to the sky and closed his eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?" he begged her. "Why now?"

"I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I'm tired of living lies," she answered crying openly now. "You may live in a world of half truths, but I don't want to anymore." She wiped at her cheeks furiously. "I thought I could be content, but every day I look at Ben and can't help but wonder who he is and what he carries inside of him."

He opened his eyes and looked at her accusingly. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

She smiled sadly. "How the hell would I have started that conversation? Besides, the outcome would've been the same. We all would've been hurt."

Dean clenched his fists. He knew she was right. "Dammit."

"Mama!" Ben exclaimed leaning against the screen door.

Dean and Natalie both turned to the little boy simultaneously. Natalie put on a smile and ran up the steps lightly and opened the door. She bent and picked him up and kissed him. "Have you been a good boy for Missouri?"

Ben smiled and nodded and then clapped his hands excitedly. "Surprise!"

"Surprise? For me?"

He leaned towards the kitchen impatiently.

Natalie allowed herself to be led further into the house and Dean followed slowly. He said nothing as he watched Ben show his mother the scribbling he did for her with probably every crayon from his box and refused to meet Missouri's knowing gaze. When Natalie quit gushing over her son's artwork and announced it was time to go, Ben shook his head and began pouting.

"What's wrong?" Missouri asked when his pouting became struggling and a mantra of "no, no, no".

"He's afraid of the dark," Natalie said trying to juggle a diaper bag and the squirming child. "He doesn't like to sleep in his room even with a nightlight."

Missouri looked at Dean sharply.

"Hey," Natalie said in her son's ear. "You can sleep with me tonight, okay? Be good and you can sleep with me."

Ben stopped fighting and seemed to accept the deal and Natalie gave Missouri a long suffering smile. "Thanks for watching him today. Say bye, Ben."

"Bye."

She turned so he was looking at Dean in the doorway. "Say bye to Dean."

He smiled and waved. "Bye."

Dean remained silent but smiled softly at the little boy.

Natalie said another goodbye to Missouri but avoided Dean's gaze as she walked past him. Missouri waited for the front door to close before raising an eyebrow. "What was that about?"

Dean just gave her a betrayed look and walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

_SOOOOO…….how many of you thought I had forgotten about this little piece? I promise to say ten Hail Marys, eat stale doughnuts, and run naked through my hall if everyone will forgive me for the delay. I have already done all three under stress of finals week and will gladly repeat it if necessary. Truthfully, I decided to put the story on hold until after the end of the semester so I could give it my full attention. So now I'm back and ready to get this mother rolling. Enjoy!_

_Oh yeah, and if there are any grammatical mistakes, sorry. I usually don't catch all of them, but I broke two of my fingers during a "finals week stress relieving exercise" as my friends and I call them and I don't remember a whole lot of it. I just know I'm like one of those animals in a trap ready to gnaw off its trapped appendage. I'm not a person with inborn patience in the best of times and typing with basically one handed has done nothing for my temperament._

_Anyway, enjoy. For those sticking around, it is definitely starting to pick up in this chapter. In "The Long Way Around" I felt that I could have rounded things out a bit better and I'm trying to make a smoother ride with this story. Hopefully this story will connect well with the first and answer a few questions. Review, because I really want reader input and ideas._

oooooooOOOOooooooo

"Dude, you haven't said a word all evening."

Dean craned his neck from where he was sitting on the front steps to look at his brother who was leaning heavily on his crutches. "Just enjoying the peace and quiet."

Sam grabbed the railing for support and eased himself down to sit next to him. They sat in silence for a long time enjoying the late summer evening and watched porch lights flip on in the growing dusk. Sam knew Dean had always liked to sit on the porch in the evenings with a beer and just…_be_. To just catch a glimpse of peaceful lives, oblivious to the supernatural world that surrounded them. When he saw kids playing tag in their yards or parents pulling in the driveway after a day at work, it made his sacrifices seem worthwhile and he was content.

But tonight…his eyes kept being drawn to Natalie's house and Sam finally sighed. "I wish you two would just air out your dirty laundry and be done with it." Dean remained quiet, but Sam didn't miss the slight frown that darkened his features. "Dean, what's wrong? You know you can talk to me about anything."

"I know."

"Or Dad."

"I know."

Sam waited, but when his brother offered nothing more, he simply nodded. "Okay." He clutched his crutches and began climbing to his feet.

"How do I tell Dad he might be a grandfather?"

Sam froze and stared at Dean like he'd grown two heads while trying to absorb what he'd just blurted out. He plopped back down. "W-What?"

Dean dropped his head into his hands and gripped his hair in his fists. "Ben might be mine," he said in a rush, figuring since he was on a roll, he couldn't stop now.

"Oh my God," Sam breathed. For once, he didn't have any words of wisdom or comfort. He just gripped his brother's shoulder and squeezed.

Dean shook him off.

"Dean…"

"Did you know?" he snapped, glaring at his brother. "Did you pick up anything on your psychic radar?"

Sam was shocked at his insinuations. "What are you trying to say?"

"Missouri knew. I could see it on her face."

"Dean," Sam said calmly. "If I knew _anything_ I would have told you. You know I wouldn't have kept something like this from you." He calculated in his head. "And you want to tell me how that is even in the realms of possibility?"

Dean shrugged. "She was a bit more pregnant than what she let everyone believe," he replied tightly.

Sam felt the heaviness on his brohter's heart as if it was his own and he risked his brother's anger by gripping his shoulder again. "Dean…it'll be okay, you don't even know for sure right?"

Dean barely shook his head and Sam knew that it wasn't the idea of having a child that had him so spun, but the fact that Natalie had kept a secret from him. So many people close to him had betrayed him at some time in some way. His own brother and father had, and though he would never speak about it, it still hurt and it showed. He no longer relied on them as he used to. He was still devoted to his family and Sam was still his best friend, but he no longer saw him through rose colored glasses.

"Dean, you know Natalie," Sam said looking at the Oldaker house down the street. "She would never hurt you purposely." Dean didn't answer but allowed Sam to keep touching him. "C'mon in the house. You can't do anything more tonight."

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Dean flung back his covers and stared at the ceiling. It was after midnight and the house was quiet, but he couldn't fall asleep. He had listened the grandfather clock downstairs tick for the last hour but it hadn't been able to lull him into restful slumber and knew the reason was more than his aching leg.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and flipped on the lamp on the night stand. Squinting as his eyes adjusted to the sudden glow the light washed his room in, he scanned the floor for the jeans and shirt he had thrown down earlier and tugged them on. He slid his feet into his boots and then stealthily crept into the hall. Heavy snoring came from his dad's room and Missouri's light was out, meaning the psychic wouldn't be able to hear him.

Instead of padding down the steps lightly he slid down the banister and the rug at the bottom muffled his landing. He stayed still a moment and listened in Sam's room for any movement and then figuring he was undetected, unlocked the door and slipped out into the night.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Sam watched his brother's form move across the yard and into the street from his window. He knew Dean hadn't been sleeping; he never did when he was troubled. Sighing deeply, he let the curtain drop back into place and turned to shuffle back into bed but a blinding light behind his eyes and intense pain caused him to stumble and fall against his desk heavily. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose while images flashed through his mind and when he finally regained control of his senses and opened his eyes again he fell to the floor and his crutch clattered down next to him.

He sat wide eyed and breathing heavy as his vision replayed in his head. "Oh God Dean," he whispered.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Dean stood after the lock clicked and slipped inside Natalie's house. He moved by memory through the darkness and ascended staircase with a steadying hand on the oak banister. He figured Natalie still kept the same room as she had before and he could make out her figure on the bed as he stood in the doorway. She still slept on the same side too.

He entered quietly and flipped on the lamp. Natalie didn't stir so he shook her arm once and placed a hand over her mouth. She instantly jerked and her eyes flew open. She let out a muffled cry and started to fight but then saw who it was.

"What the hell Dean?" she snapped pulling herself up to a sitting position. Ben slept cuddled next to his mother and didn't stir at the intrusion. She looked at the clock bleary eyed and then glared at Dean. "It's in the middle of the night, you loon. And what's with the sneak and creep?"

He sank down on the mattress next to her. "I didn't want to wake Ben."

"How thoughtful." She sighed and pushed some of her blond hair out of her face. "What do you want?'

"I couldn't sleep."

Natalie's eyes softened and she folded her hands in her lap. "Dean I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am. I never wanted for any of this to happen."

"How did Jason…?"

She swallowed and shrugged. "After he found out about us, he started getting suspicious." She looked down at Ben and began stoking his hair. "One night he just asked me if he was yours and I couldn't lie. I told him I didn't know. He still sees Ben…but it's been hard for him to be the same." She looked at Dean again. "I thought for awhile that it would be best if I just kept quiet but I realized I was being selfish. It wasn't fair to any of us, especially Ben. I'm just trying to do right by him."

Dean watched her stroke Ben's hair and realized he couldn't continue being angry at her. It wouldn't change the situation and she was right. This couldn't be just about the two of them bickering. There was a little boy to think about now. "So what do we do now?" he asked.

Natalie shrugged and smiled weakly. "Sleep for now I guess."

He looked at Ben. "He sleeps with you a lot?"

"Just lately," she answered with a yawn. "Too scared to sleep in his own room. One of those phases I guess."

He nodded. "I'm going to go the bathroom."

Natalie barely nodded. She was already burrowing back under the covers and wrapping her arms around her son.

Dean left the room and then across the hall to the other bedroom. It was a typical nursery, with a crib in the corner and the floor littered with toys. A baseball theme dominated the room and he couldn't help but grin. "Well at least it isn't a bunch of pansy assed Winnie the Pooh," he muttered.

He spied the window in the corner and pulled out a container from his jacket as he walked over. He flipped up the lid and drew a salt line along the sill. He figured he'd do the rest of the house the next day and started to slip the container back into his pocket but stopped when he saw the closet.

_Monsters in the closet…._

Dean frowned and felt for the gun he had tucked into the back of his pants for reassurance and approached the door and gripped the knob. He grasped the butt of the Glock and his thumb snapped the safety off. When he flung open the door all that greeted him was a rack full of clothes and an oversized teddy bear. He sagged against the frame and nearly laughed at himself. He put the gun away and then knelt and leaned back towards the back of the closet and poured a line where Natalie wouldn't notice and it wouldn't be disturbed. Just in case.

When he was finished, Dean sat back and gripped the frame to painfully climb to his feet. He shut the door quietly and with one last scan of the room left it and returned to Natalie's bedroom. He eased himself down on the other side so Ben was nestled between the two of them and then finally fell into a deep slumber.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

Sam was sitting in the breakfast nook in the kitchen staring at the stove blankly when Dean trudged up the back steps early the next morning. He didn't say anything but poured two cups of the coffee that their father had brewed earlier and sat across form his brother and slid one of them across to them.

Sam took a sip and closed his eyes while the brew worked its magic. Feeling more alive and willing to deal with his brother he said, "We have to talk."

"I don't feel like it Sammy," Dean said plaintively closing his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. "Just for a little while."

He looked like he had gotten as much sleep as he had and Sam hated to do it, but Dean had to know. "I had a vision last night."

Dean opened one eye. "And?"

"It was Natalie. And Ben."

Dean straightened. "What?"

"I don't really know what I saw," Sam stammered looking into the dark liquid in his cup. "Just flashes." He rubbed his still aching head as he tried to bring forth the images. "Natalie was panicked, running up the stairs."

"And Ben?"

"His crib was empty."

Dean slid out of the nook and stood in front of the sink and braced himself against on outstretched arms. "I salted the window in his nursery. And his closet," he admitted.

Sam nodded. "Good."

"What the hell could it be though?" Dean said turning around. "I didn't get a supernatural vibe, you know? The house has always been peaceful and Natalie didn't seem like there was anything unnatural going on."

"Maybe we're not dealing with a poltergeist or spirit."

"What do you mean?"

"Not everything involves the supernatural. Maybe it's something a bit more human."

Dean made a face. "I'd rather have the poltergeist."

"Look, let's not jump the gun," Sam rationalized. "It could be nothing."

"Since when have your visions ever meant nothing?" Dean asked. "And since when do we have a lot of time before they happen?"

"Look, the last time I went in guns blazing I threw you out a window and caused the vision to come true. I'm not going to overreact and cause another tragedy."

Dean nodded reluctantly. "What are we supposed to do then? It's not like we can interview a two year old. The kid sounds more Klingon than human."

"No, but you can talk to Natalie."

Dean's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me? We aren't exactly Bonnie and Clyde right now. I can just see it now," he snapped sarcastically. "Hey Natalie, um, my brother's psychic and he has visions of people dying and getting hurt and, well, he had one of you and your son. But no worries, cause we're going to stake your house and shoot rock salt out of our shotguns at any ghost or creature that might rear its head."

The corner of Sam's mouth turned up despite the gravity of the situation. "You have a way of putting such a spin on things." He leaned forward. "But this is Natalie we're talking about. Don't you think she deserves to know the truth, especially with her child at stake?"

"Don't play that card with me!" Dean growled bitterly. "Don't talk to me about her deserving to know the truth." As much as he was trying to let go, he found his resentment coming back every time he thought about Ben. "Besides, we both know how well that turned out the last time I told a woman about us.

Sam sighed. "What do you suggest we do then? Hell, she knows Missouri's psychic, maybe we should-"

"No, I don't Missouri involved in this."

"Then what do we do?"

"Dammit Sam, I don't know!" Dean yelled frustrated, pacing the kitchen. "I don't know."


	6. Chapter 6

_No, this story is not dead nor am I, although I'm going to finish this story if it kills me. I've been in the middle of moving the past two months but I'm settled now and writing. I hope you all haven't lost interest in this because it will be finished soon. The boys are more in their element now so enjoy and review! _

oooooooOOOOooooooo

"I hate this you know."

"So you've told me told me since breakfast."

"Well then maybe you should listen to me. I am psychic you know."

"Then you should know what will happen to you if you don't shut up." Dean pushed open Natalie's now unlocked back door. "Voila."

"Good to know you're still an upstanding criminal," Sam remarked looking around to make sure no one from next door saw them before following his brother inside.

"Would you cut the commentary and just get to work? Natalie won't be off work until two, but I want to get out of here before Missouri notices something's up."

"Like she can't just rip it out of your head if she wants to. I still don't understand why you don't want her to know."

"This is my problem, Sam," Dean snapped. "Just let me do this my way."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. So you said he's afraid to sleep in his room at night? Why not just give him a gun?" he asked referring to his father's method.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him and grabbed Sam's crutches as they ascended the steps. "You're efforts at levity are not helping. Hurry up."

Sam paused in his efforts at hopping up the steps one at a time long enough to flip him off. Dean smirked and pushed open the door to Ben's nursery with gun in hand. He scanned the room quickly while waiting for Sam to catch up and then went and stood in front of the closet while Sam checked the salt lines on the window sill.

"Lines are still intact," Sam said coming over. "Was anything amiss last night?"

Dean shook his head. "No. But…the closet bothers me."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "It just does."

Sam snapped his fingers in his brother's face to draw him out of the trance he seemed to have fallen into. "Hey, snap out of it."

Dean shivered and blinked. "Sorry."

"Dude, where'd you go?"

Dean couldn't explain the sudden pang of grief he'd just felt or the warmth that had just washed it away, but it was familiar and it roused some of his most deeply buried memories. "Do you smell jasmine?"

Sam startled at the sudden question. 'No."

Dean frowned and his eyes grew troubled.

"You always said Natalie smelled like jasmine," Sam offered as explanation. "She's probably got potpourri shit or a plug in around here somewhere."

"Yeah," Dean said not convinced. "Check the closet. I drew lines in there last night."

Sam opened the door and pushed away clothing and the stuffed animals. He frowned at what he saw. "Dean, turn on the light."

When the light chased every shadow from the small space, Sam set his mouth into a grim line and leaned back for Dean to see.

Deep, black scratch marks decorated the back wall as if long fingernails had been raked across it.

oooooooOOOOooooooo

"What the hell are we dealing with?" Dean growled throwing open the fridge door to retrieve two beers. "What creature preys on children that we don't already know about? We've already been down the list of possibilities. Shtriga, _boogeyman,_ changelings, rawheads….they have different calling cards. Even Bobby is stumped. He called back awhile ago and said he couldn't find anything."

He plopped back down in his seat and slid a can across the table to his brother. They had gotten back to the house and immediately dived into research. Sam had holed himself up in the breakfast nook and had been surfing the net for two hours while Dean had made various calls to some of their old contacts. Sam's pensive gaze never left the computer screen as he reached out and cracked the tab on the beer. He leaned back and took a long pull and then furrowed his eyebrows at what he was reading.

"What?"

"I think I found another possibility."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "And?"

Sam blew out a sigh and looked at his brother. "A piper."

"I can't believe you were able to look me straight in the eye when you said that."

"Says the man who killed his first boogeyman at nineteen. Dean, there is tons of legend on it."

"Right. Legend."

"How many legends have we actually hunted in our life, Dean?" Sam asked. "I can't believe you're scoffing at the possibility."

"_A Pied Piper?"_

"They aren't the fifes with bells on their toes like the one from the storybook."

Dean closed his eyes. "Hokay. Tell me."

"There's no info on the origin of them, but they do prey on children," Sam explained scrolling down the Web page. "They aren't age specific." He glanced up at his brother. "Answers the question of why children disappear from their bedrooms without a trace and are never seen again."

"What affects them?"

"Well, like most supernatural creatures they can't cross salt lines, but…"

"But what?"

"They don't have to."

Dean nodded. "They lure the children."

"Which makes them dangerous sons of bitches." Sam read on. "Whoa. They aren't completely random in their choosing."

"What do you mean?"

"Patterns have been put together over the past years. The kids that have disappeared have had unstable backgrounds. Runaways, foster children, orphans, some just from broken homes."

"But Ben's only two!"

"And two is a vulnerable age. There has been tension between his parents since he was born and they're divorcing."

"And now there's the question of his paternity," Dean said quietly. "How do we kill it?"

Sam looked at the screen again and scrolled down the page. "Says a knife made out of consecrated brass."

"Awesome. So we actually have to get up close and personal with the thing."

Sam nodded.

"We have to get Ben out of that room. Out of the house."

"That might not be an option."

"What are you saying?"

Sam only looked at him.

"No," Dean said standing up abruptly. "No fucking way."

"Dean, it might be the only way. I don't like it either. But we've done this before."

"We've never dangled a two year old in front of a monster! We've never forced anybody to be bait, they've always been able to decide for themselves. Ben can't."

"Then what do you propose? Moving him won't solve the problem; the piper is attached to him, not the room!"

Dean walked to the kitchen window where he could see Missouri pushing Ben on the swing in the backyard. "Sam, I can't," he whispered.

Sam pursed his lips and watched his brother's profile. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. We'll find another way."

_I hope the legend of the Pied Piper sounded authentic, because I just completely pulled it out of my butt. The only information I could find on the net was just the story everyone's grown up with, so I just decided to embellish a little. So if someone knows of an actual piper-like urban legend…sorry. I like mine better. haha_


End file.
